


Anteros

by nanotrance



Series: Hedone [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Anal Sex, Biting, Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Relationship, Come Eating, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Fluff and Smut, Foot Jobs, Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Marking, Mild Kink, Praise Kink, Riding, Service Top, Shoe Kink, Stiletto Heels, Stockings, dick stepping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanotrance/pseuds/nanotrance
Summary: “Like what you see?” he said, propping his chin on one hand, the other ghosting across his angled leg to draw attention to the fluid curve of his calf. Victor’s eyes, pupils blown wide, followed loyally. God, he could get used to this. “Well? You are going to answer me, right?”“Yes, yes, it’s amazing, you’re amazing—” Words tumbled from Victor’s mouth without reserve until Yuuri’s entire body flushed.“That’s enough,” he said, lifting a foot to gently close Victor’s jaw with the toe of a shoe. “I changed my mind. Show me how quiet you can be. Can you do that? Can you be good for me?”





	

He wasn’t sure how it happened, this thing with him stepping on Victor’s, well. He wasn’t sure how it happened at all. But Victor was making such pretty noises, and his face was so flushed, and honestly his crotch felt so interesting under Yuuri’s foot? He shifted his weight to press on the other side of Victor’s—oh, wow, _that_ expression was even prettier than the last, and suddenly Yuuri wanted to go even further.

“You know,” he began conversationally, gently rubbing an inner thigh with his other foot as Victor yelped something in Russian. “I, uh, I actually have some…heels buried in my closet? And some thigh highs, too. Should I, uh…?”

Both of them were fully clothed, more or less; Yuuri had unbuttoned his shirt, and Victor’s was slowly being hitched up around his chest as he squirmed, but they were mostly decent. Except for the dick-stepping, but whatever, right? And there was vodka nearby, a classy-looking bottle Victor had selected to celebrate…something? Yuuri had forgotten by his third highball. He’d also forgotten how they’d ended back up in Victor’s room at the onsen, because the last he remembered was slamming back his fifth highball, or maybe it was his sixth. Maybe they’d taken a taxi.

Oh, fuck, now he remembered. Victor had wanted to visit some local bar he’d been recommended by a local (he was fast becoming friends with probably half the residents of Hasetsu, how did he even manage), Yuuri had agreed, and before either of them knew it, they were absolutely plastered. It didn’t help that Yuuri had found himself embroiled in a drinking contest with some jackass who’d kept looking at Victor the wrong way. At least he won that competition…probably? Things were kind of hazy. God, he really needed to remember that his liver wasn’t getting any younger.

And then Yuuri had run into an old friend who’d given them a ride, and now they were back at the onsen, and they were both ridiculously hammered, and Yuuri was apparently giving his fiancé a footjob? Well, Yuuri’s parents were out for once, visiting a sick cousin in the city, and Mari had fallen asleep long before they’d come back from the bar, so surely it was okay to be a little, uh, risqué tonight? _And vocal_ , Yuuri thought as he heard Victor let out a particularly noticeable groan.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked as peeled off his socks and shoes, then reapplied his bare feet to Victor’s groin. He’d slept with some fairly kinky people before, including a girl who had a thing for hot wax and those two guys he’d had That One Accidental Threesome with, but a footjob was new. Yuuri had never considered feet to be particularly erotic, but apparently Victor begged to disagree, and who was Yuuri to deny him? “Kinda weird, but, well. It definitely suits you.”

Here was the thing about Victor: more than anything, Yuuri had learned, the man wanted to be debased. A lifetime of loneliness at the top had left him craving to be smacked off the pedestal the entire world kept him on. He didn’t necessarily want the shit slapped out of him, like a few of the people Yuuri had fucked (and thank god for that, because Yuuri felt like a really crappy sadist, not to mention that whip marks bled a lot more than he’d thought they would). He just wanted to be taken down a peg. Or a few pegs. A lot of pegs? God, he needed to stop thinking about this stuff when drunk. Regardless of the reasoning behind it, Yuuri easily found himself slipping back into the casual degradation he adopted solely for occasions like this, and he rubbed lazy circles into the other man’s groin as he waited for Victor’s reply.

“V-very good,” Victor said much too cheerfully, though he was visibly sweating. It kind of made Yuuri want to tease him more. Actually, it _really_ made Yuuri want to tease him more. But how to go about it?

Yuuri had long ago realized he did not make the best decisions when drunk. Then again, he didn’t make the best decisions when sober, either. Maybe this was a sign from the universe telling him to drink more. He grabbed the vodka and took a messy swig, then another, until he had a better idea.

“Open your mouth,” he said, slinking off the chair with much more grace than one would expect of a man who’d downed vodka, several highballs, and at least one cocktail that night. Victor did so without hesitation, though obviously unsure of what was to happen next, and Yuuri savored the other man’s apprehension as he took another gulp, held the booze in his mouth, pressed his lips to Victor’s, and thrust his tongue inside.

“A much more exciting way to drink, that’s for sure,” Victor gasped when they pulled apart, panting. He had the dazed look of a man who’d just been hit by a car and was still processing the damage. Then he grabbed the vodka and gave Yuuri as good as he got.

They went on like this for a while, drinking nearly half the bottle between them, though a good amount of it slopped down their faces and onto their clothes and the floor. “Can I--?” they blurted out almost simultaneously, which both decided to take as an enthusiastic _yes_. That was how Yuuri found himself with one hand down Victor’s pants and the other hitching up Victor’s shirt to tease and bite his nipples. Victor, meanwhile, was valiantly attempting to give Yuuri a handjob, though he seemed too overwhelmed by all the stimulation to manage for more than half a minute at a time. But Yuuri’s mind was likewise clouded with fantasies about the heels he’d mentioned, fuck, and those thigh-highs would feel so sexy, too…

He gently pulled away from Victor and inspected his fiancé. He was already looking kind of wrecked, but Yuuri knew from experience the night had just begun. A tiny blush, barely perceptible, was beginning to glow on his cheeks. It made Yuuri want to bop his nose, and also blow him, but mostly the nose thing.

“S-so,” Victor stammered, barely able to maintain eye contact, “the heels?”

“Oh, right,” Yuuri said, as if he hadn’t been thinking about them nonstop for the past half an hour. “The heels.” He shifted into a crouch and tried to seem as nonchalant as possible. “I guess you also—“

“The socks? Yes. _Please_ ,” Victor added, and ah, shit, the edge of desperation in his voice was just way too sexy. Yuuri pecked him on the cheek.

“Hold on a sec,” he said as he stood up, proud of the fact that his voice didn’t waver at all. “I gotta. Gotta go dig them up.” He hesitated before adding over his shoulder, “Be a good boy?”

Victor whimpered.

______________________________________________________________________

It was difficult walking to his room while drunk and sporting a hard-on, but Yuuri managed without incident. Upon arrival, he stripped off his pants and tossed them in a corner for Future Yuuri to deal with, along with a hangover and probably cumstains on his socks. Then he took a deep breath and shoved open the door of his closet, where Things He Did Not Speak Of had been squirreled away behind boxes of yellowing textbooks and outgrown clothes.

Yuuri, like many teenagers, had used his closet to hide various unsavory items his family didn’t need to know about. Most of these unsavory items had been broken or lost or used up in Detroit, or thrown out as he grew older, or (he suspected) secretly commandeered by Mari. The heels, fortunately, were not one of them. He pawed through stacks of college junk till he spotted an unassuming shoebox half-hidden by a frayed blanket. He tugged on the box, only to be surprised when it didn’t move. Was it stuck? Oh, for the love of…He gave it a final yank, hastily avoided the falling boxes (god, he really needed to clean this hellhole of a closet before it became radioactive) and opened the shoebox to pull out the heels he’d fantasized about for what felt like _years_.

The heels were borrowed from Yuuko, actually, right before he left for Detroit, and forgotten in his closet for years. She’d never asked why he needed them, and she’d never asked for them back, so it was okay, right?

They were red, the bright shiny cherry of hard candy, and dangerously high; his classmates in Detroit called shoes like these stripper heels. The straps were thin and left little room for his legs but plenty for regret, and he thanked his lucky stars he’d inherited his mother’s delicate feet. Wait, why did Yuuko own a pair of heels like this in the first place? Maybe it was better not to think about that.

Yuuri was not particularly fond of the way these shoes felt; they pinched in odd places, and rubbed on all his callouses and blisters, and the last time he’d worn them he’d ended up with blood smeared all over the left’s inner sole thanks to chafing. He slipped them on anyway; 10 minutes of wear wouldn’t be so bad, especially with the stockings between the shoes and his skin.

Wait. The stockings. Fuck. He kicked the heels off and dug though the boxes in his closet to find them carelessly stuffed into a limp plastic bag, amongst a few old skirts and some childhood knickknacks he lacked the heart to throw out. Yuuri unrolled the wrinkled mess of fabric and eyed them in comparison to his legs. He’d grown a little since he’d worn these, back in his teens, but figured they should still hold up so long as he didn’t move too quickly. These were name brand, a good quality fabric that felt sinfully good against his skin, and he’d summoned up all his 16-year-old courage to purchase them from a department store, so he would have been sore to see them wasted.

He ran a finger down the length of the stockings and admired them. They were a soft, opaque cream with a ribbed texture and delicate black ribbons encircling the hem, and they were one of his favorite items of clothing. They clashed with his boxer briefs, and he considered ditching the underwear, but he decided the six-centimeter glimpse of thigh between socks and briefs would be too tantalizing, so the briefs stayed put.

The problem was that Yuuri had never worn them with these heels—with any heels, actually, these were usually paired with some nice flats—so there was no telling how slippery the combination would be if he tried to walk in them. Besides, red heels and white stockings…did that even match? He examined the items doubtfully.

“Yuuri? Are…are you okay in there?” he heard Victor called weakly. Wait, right, Victor. Crap, he’d almost forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. “Should I come help you look?”

“No!” Yuuri yelled, inexplicably flustered by the thought of Victor seeing him like this. “I’ll be out in a sec, I swear!”

It wasn’t like Yuuri considered himself a particularly feminine guy, he thought as he smoothed the last of the wrinkles from the thigh-highs. He did enjoy fashion magazines, and of course there was ballet, and he’d long ago learned basic sewing skills to repair his costumes, and okay, yes, he cross-dressed sometimes, and by sometimes he actually meant whenever he had the time, even if it was as simple as wearing a comfortable skirt and flats with a men’s lightweight henley because who honestly wanted to bother with pants when the heat index was 32 degrees Celsius, and wow, where was he even going with this? But he rolled the socks on—carefully, with sweaty palms and trembling hands—before strapping his slippery feet into the heels. Examining himself in the mirror during his first tentative steps proved he possessed more finesse than he’d believed himself capable of when drunk; the heels gave his walk a delicate sway that he knew was hot. Made his ass look good, too. Ah, wait, actually, wasn’t there a finishing touch that would make this mess even better?

He scrambled over to his dresser and fished around through his bag of performance makeup until he found _that_ tube of Chanel lipstick, the good shit, the _really_ good shit because Yuuri was not going to half-ass his sexy makeup goddammit, and began to apply it in the mirror as hastily as the situation would let him. It was the color of burgundy wine and just as smooth, and he afforded himself the tiniest smirk at his reflection before picking himself up and carefully, carefully strutting back to Victor.

“Sorry about the delay,” he purred (and oh god, he’d be so embarrassed in the morning, because how the fuck could he sound this sultry without even a blush?!), settling back on the chair. One leg crossed over the other automatically, as if he were born for this. “I always want to look good for my Солнышко.” He swore he heard Victor choke at that, and secretly praised Past Yuuri for googling _Russian terms of endearment_.

“Like what you see?” he said, propping his chin on one hand, the other ghosting across his angled leg to draw attention to the fluid curve of his calf. Victor’s eyes, pupils blown wide, followed loyally. God, he could get used to this. “Well? You are going to answer me, right?”

“Yes, yes, it’s amazing, you’re amazing—” Words tumbled from Victor’s mouth without reserve until Yuuri’s entire body flushed.

“That’s enough,” he said, lifting a foot to gently close Victor’s jaw with the toe of a shoe. “I changed my mind. Show me how quiet you can be. Can you do that? Can you be good for me?”

He bit back a laugh at Victor’s jerky nod before leisurely resting the ball of his foot on the other man’s stomach. Unlike some of the men he’d slept with, Victor’s abdomen was incredibly toned, and had no softness or give. Not the best place to nap, but definitely great during sex.

Gingerly, he pressed the heel of the shoe against Victor’s stomach, then again a few centimeters south, and repeated the process till the heel was nudging Victor’s aching cock. After hearing the man’s breath hitch when he lightly pushed down with the stiletto, he did it again, much harder this time, as hard as he dared without risking injury. Victor yelped in a mixture of agony and delight, eyes locked with Yuuri’s and daring him to continue. Yuuri wiggled his toes in their shoes and slowly, so slowly, licked his lips and savored the chemical taste of Chanel. Wearing makeup and feminine clothing made him feel paradoxically masculine, gave him a sway over the man he loved more than anyone and a confidence in his own skin.

“Don’t touch yourself,” he commanded when Victor’s hand came entirely too close to his crotch. “I want to get you off.” _Look at me, feel me, obey_ _me, only me, I’m yours and you’re mine_ , and it wasn’t till Victor began mindlessly chanting his assent that Yuuri realized he’d said these things out loud. That would be embarrassing later, huh. He gave a mental shrug and increased the pace of his feet on Victor’s dick. The sight of Victor on his knees, legs splayed wide, hands alternately concealing his flushed-red face or clutching helplessly at the unforgiving tatami floor…before Yuuri knew it, he was stroking himself with his free hand, quietly, so as to maintain the appearance of control.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, please, золотце, I—”

“Hmm? So you can’t be quiet for me? How sad.” He used a stiletto heel to prod the tender flesh of Victor’s thigh in a way he knew would bruise, would make Victor wince. “Don’t you think I should punish you for that? Walk away and leave you like this?” At the sight of a few budding tears in Victor’s eyes, Yuuri’s cool façade nearly cracked, and he faked a cough till he regained his composure.

“I guess I can give you a second chance, Солнышко,” he sighed, switching the position of his feet to stave off cramps. “But everything has consequences. Take off your clothes. I want you naked as the day you were born.”

Victor scrambled out of his disheveled outfit so quickly that Yuuri worried he might get whiplash. Then he pretended to seal his lips like a zipper, and a giggle escaped Yuuri despite his best efforts.

When Victor was finished, Yuuri placed his left foot back on Victor’s cock, bare now, and clearly aching. Precum bubbled and spilled onto the glossy red of his shoe. Experimentally, he brought his right foot up and _squeezed_ Victor’s cock between the toes of both shoes. The resultant choking sound Victor made, like he didn’t know whether to come or to scream, had Yuuri enraptured.

Ohhh, man. He could get used to this.

“What is it you want, Солнышко?” he asked, stilling his feet entirely. “Do you really want to come like this? Just make me do all the work?” Victor nodded furiously, but Yuuri pretended not to see, because if he was going to sit there and give a fucking footjob in thigh-highs and stripper heels, then he felt entitled to tease the love of his life a little more.

“You know,” he continued, amazed at the casual filth that was spilling from his mouth, “lately I’ve been thinking about recording you during sex, just like this, all helpless and pathetic, not even in control over your own dick, getting off from nothing but my foot…At first I just wanted something for later, when you’re gone and I’m horny and bored, right? But now I think maybe I should leak a clip online, cause a little scandal. Would you like that, being on a sex tape for everyone to gawk at? Do you think they’d be disappointed to learn that their idol Victor Nikiforov isn’t much more than a dog?”

He physically _felt_ Victor’s dick stiffen at that, and realized he’d struck gold.

“ _That’s_ what gets you off? That’s pathetic. You really are a dog.” He continued his ministrations as he babbled out of control, massaging, pressing, always going still when Victor seemed about to climax, then picking up the pace again. “And not even a well-trained dog. Makkachin listens to me more often than you do, y’know? Well, honestly, it’s kind of insulting to Makkachin to compare you to a dog. At least Makkachin _comes_ —” he bore down hard and watched, satisfied, as Victor finally shuddered in orgasm— “when called.”

He waited for Victor to ride out his last wave of pleasure before completely removing his feet and kicking both shoes off. Then he climbed off the chair and onto his fiancé’s sticky lap, murmuring soft words of encouragement— _so good for me, so good, my Солнышко, I’m so glad I could make you come_ —as Victor basked in a post-orgasm haze, limp against the wall.

“So, I take it you reeeally enjoyed that, huh?” Yuuri smirked before dragging a finger though the cum dripping from Victor’s stomach and raising it to his mouth. His fiance’s widened eyes were more than worth the salt-bitter taste.

“Definitely,” Victor panted, unable to tear his gaze away.

“You really are a horny mutt,” Yuuri said affectionately, before burying his face in Victor’s chest and inhaling deeply. He smelled like musk and alcohol and sweat and a summer’s day and it made Yuuri’s head spin so, so nice. “I wanna get off, jeez,” he complained, starting to slur his words even as he reached blindly for the vodka. Victor’s hand gently clasping his wrist stopped him, a silent notice that he’d probably had too much to drink as is.

“That can be arranged,” Victor said, sounding pretty eager for a guy who came just three minutes earlier.

“You’ve got great stamina for such an old man,” Yuuri snorted as he cocked an eyebrow.

“Old? I’ll have you know I’m in the prime of my life, a mere 27 with the world at my feet and—”

Yuuri poked at the thinning spot atop Victor’s head. “Hmm…No, see? You’re balding already, that definitely makes you old.”

Victor pretended to sulk before suddenly sweeping him into a kiss and, oh, wow, these lipstick smears were going to be a pain in the morning but he was too giddy to care. Then, out of the blue, he had an idea.

“Hold still,” he said, gently pushing Victor back against the wall.

Victor’s eyes gleamed. “Got a surprise for me, Yura?”

“I want to show the world you’re always mine,” he said, bowing his head to reach Victor’s neck. “That we’re a part of each other. That I can’t be without you. That I love you so much I want everyone to see the proof all over your body…” He began biting till he tasted blood, lovingly caressing the wounds with his tongue, moving on to his shoulders and chest and sensitive thighs, repeating the process what felt like a thousand times as the world narrowed down to Victor’s sighs in his ears and Victor’s hand caressing his hair.

Eventually, though, Yuuri pulled back and smugly observed his handiwork. Victor’s bare flesh was literally covered in lipstick, _Yuuri’s_ lipstick, covered in _Yuuri_ and absolutely giddy because of it, god, it was every lonely teenage fantasy come true and more, and Yuuri didn’t know what to do except kiss Victor even more.

“Fuck, I think I wanna ride you,” he mumbled between kisses. “’S that okay?” But Victor was stammering out an _always_ before Yuuri could even finish his sentence, and he took that as a cue to scrounge up some lube. It had been a while since he was on bottom, but hell, he felt adventurous tonight.

            When the lube was in hand, Yuuri realized he was still in his shirt and underwear, not to mention the stockings and heels. The shirt he flung into a corner, because to hell with that thing already. The underwear and heels soon followed. He moved to peel off the stockings, but Victor caught his fingers in his own. “You can…keep those on?” he said hopefully.

“Still a horny mutt,” Yuuri sighed before laughing and kissing Victor’s nose. He did have to take off his glasses, because it was a pain when they kept falling off his face in the middle of sex, and besides, getting cum on the lenses was an absolute nightmare. But the stockings stayed on. Hopefully the cumstains wouldn’t be too noticeable after a wash.

When both were ready and had nodded assent, Yuuri breathed in deeply to steady himself. Even with his blurry vision he could see Victor was smiling (grinning, really, as though he didn’t understand how he’d gotten this lucky but wasn’t about to question it), and that made him smile, too. Then Victor’s tongue found its way into Yuuri’s mouth and what the hell, that wasn’t fair, Victor knew that was his weakness—he kissed back roughly, savoring the bitterness of vodka and the racing of their twin heartbeats, until his dick couldn’t wait any longer.

“I was thinking it’s your turn to do some work, Солнышко,” he said before grabbing Victor’s hand and unceremoniously upending the bottle’s contents over his fingers. The lube must have been cold, because the other man yelped in surprise as he stared at his own hand. “Warm it up for me and get me ready?”

Victor’s fingers were trembling as they slid down the curve of Yuuri’s ass, making him squirm. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath till the first finger slipped inside, soon accompanied by another. A lengthy exhalation against his neck proved that Victor had been holding his breath too.

Yuuri took both their cocks and began stroking both with one hand, using the other to brace himself against the wall. His movements were jerky and the rhythm was off, but he wasn’t any less aroused, and clearly neither was Victor. The sound of harsh breathing, of slick substances and skin on skin slowly filled the room and made Yuuri’s head spin.

Yuuri didn’t require much prep; he had experience, and he liked things a little rough. “That’s enough,” he said as he quickly slicked up Victor’s cock, then gave it a warning squeeze that made his fiancé shudder. “Some of us haven’t come tonight, y’know.” Victor gave a little grin and then, with his free hand tangled in Yuuri’s hair, began to press inside.

The sudden burn and stretch of penetration was nothing Yuuri couldn’t adjust to. Victor wasn’t overly large—Yuuri was a little bigger, actually—and he tended to be too cautious when he topped. Yuuri began to wiggle his hips in impatience, and the sensation of being filled quickly went from awkward to pleasant as his hand found its way to his cock again while Victor began nuzzling tiny kisses into the crook of his neck.

Victor set a slow pace, no matter how Yuuri tried to rile him up. “Hmm? Out of stamina already?” he slurred, poking _that_ balding spot again for good measure. “And I thought you were supposed to be in the prime of your life…”

He snickered as something in Victor’s posture shifted, and then suddenly he didn’t have the breath to snicker anymore. He was grabbed by the hips—and oh, that was gonna bruise so nice—and slammed down, over and over, in a brutal pace he found exhilarating.

“Guess you aren’t such an old man after all,” Yuuri panted as arousal coiled in his gut, something tight and almost painful and oh-so-addicting. “That’s my Солнышко.”

Victor barely seemed capable of remembering his own name, let alone stringing together a rational reply, but the sheer adoration on his face said everything Yuuri needed to know.

“Don’t you dare pull out,” Yuuri said when Victor seemed about to cum, his breathing ragged and his thrusts ever more irregular. “And don’t even _think_ of coming first.”

“I would never,” Victor managed to say in mock offense, as though he hadn’t done that very thing the past three times they’d had sex. Yuuri snorted and kissed his nose.

In the end, Yuuri did cum first, courtesy of Victor’s calloused hand around his cock and a series of well-aimed thrusts. As always, he orgasmed almost silently, simply giving a few shaky breaths before slumping onto Victor. His fiancé had the courtesy to finish soon after, flooding Yuuri with the warmth he craved. He always got a possessive thrill out of Victor finishing inside him, even if it’d be a pain to clean up in the morning, because no way in hell could he muster up the energy to wash now.

They stayed there a few minutes as their heart rates settled, sweaty, and sticky, and reeking of booze. Yuuri had never been happier.

“You look lost in thought, золотце,” Victor said with a yawn, holding him closer. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was thinking that I’m so glad to be wildly in love with Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri mumbled as his consciousness finally began to fade.

“And I’m so glad to be wildly in love with Katsuki Yuuri,” Victor replied, pressing his slick-swollen lips to Yuuri’s ring. Yuuri nudged their foreheads together, and before he knew it, he fell asleep like that, drooling softly onto his fiancé’s bruising, kiss-covered chest.

________________________________________________________________

Morning came with the inevitability of taxes, flight delays, and death. Yuuri groaned as the first piercing ray of sunshine hit him like a truck. He buried his throbbing head in the blanket till he felt well enough to face the world, which took the better part of an hour, because vodka and highballs are a duo not to be underestimated. It took him nearly that long to realize his thigh-highs were gone, nowhere to be seen, and he was naked but slightly less filthy than when he’d fallen asleep. Victor must have carried him to the futon, wiped him off, and covered him in a blanket, bless him.

Wait, fuck, where was Victor? Wasn’t this his room? Yuuri considered getting up to look for him before the sound of footsteps and the incoming scent of shampoo told him Victor was returning from a bath. Speaking of, a hot bath sounded excellent. Yuuri did not appreciate having dried cum crusted all over the outside of his body, let alone _inside_ it. He briefly considered asking to be carried to the bathing station as a joke before realizing Victor wouldn’t even hesitate.

“Morning, Yura. I put your socks in the wash,” Victor yawned when Yuuri, wrapped in a plush bathrobe he’d borrowed from Victor’s closet, passed him right outside his room. Yuuri paused to exchange quick pecks on the cheek before staggering to the bathing station.

_____________________________________________________________________

When Yuuri managed to wobble to the kitchen, freshly scrubbed and nauseous as hell, it was time for his usual hangover cure, perfected during his years in Detroit: coffee, coffee, aspirin, more coffee, and plain toast. Next to him, Victor nursed a cup of ginger tea, his face wan.

“That’s the last time I let you take advice from Kamatani-san about local bars,” Yuuri grumbled when his toast was gone. He still felt a little queasy, but the worst of his hangover was gone, probably.

“I don’t know, I think things turned out pretty well,” Victor said. He frowned at his mug. “Although maybe the drinking contest was a bad idea?”

Yuuri threw back another handful of aspirin. “Jeez, I’m sore,” he complained, rubbing his temples.

“Should I massage your feet later? Those heels looked painful,” Victor said, and oh, god, all memory of the previous night’s activities flooded back at once. Yuuri’s entire body blushed a fluorescent red.

“I can’t believe I did thaaaaaaat,” he moaned into the empty mug, fist pounding the top of the kotatsu. “How could you let me do something so…so…”

“Intense?  Erotic? Astounding?”

“Embarrassing! It’s embarrassing, you jerk!” He wanted to grouse a little more, but Victor was doing that stupidly adorable thing he did with his mouth when he was happy, the one that made Yuuri want to kiss that mouth and also the rest of Victor’s body, fuck. “You’re lucky I love you so much, jeez.”

He knew how he looked right then: glasses askew, bloodshot eyes, probably lipstick smeared on his teeth. The shirt he’d thrown on after his bath was stained with substances best left unidentified, and the fabric was frayed in weird places, and on top of that his hair was sticking up every which way. He must have looked like he’d been raised by feral dogs. And yet, Victor’s voice when he said, “you’re beautiful” was so sincere that Yuuri believed every word.     

“Maybe I should go for eyeliner next time, too,” he said, leaning in to blow a stray bit of hair out of Victor’s eyes.

“Morning breath, Yura,” Victor complained, but he was smiling, eyes crinkled and nose pink. “Crepes?”

“ _Please_ ,” Yuuri replied instantly, because Victor’s crepes were less of a breakfast and more of a religious experience (supposedly he’d learned the recipe from a French skater who dabbled in gourmet cooking). Victor laughed and began rummaging about the kitchen for ingredients and a frying pan.

In a few minutes Victor had to contend with a very energetic dog underfoot, because Makkachin had been lured in by the promise of crepes and morning snuggles. Yuuri cheerfully accepted the dog into his lap and snuck him scraps when Victor wasn’t looking, and sometimes when he was. Before long, a bleary-eyed Mari had staggered in as well, eager for helpings of the prized Nikiforov Crepes. Eventually, everyone was comfortably settled around the kotatsu and Yuuri, despite his lingering hangover, felt content.

Then Mari opened her mouth.

“So,” Mari began. Her face was grim. “Last night I was _rudely_ awoken by a weird noise. A really _loud_ weird noise from Nikiforov-san’s room.”

Victor and Yuuri both froze in place, the latter with his fork halfway to his mouth. Makkachin took the opportunity to snatch the bite of crepe on that fork, then the entire crepe on Yuuri’s plate. No one even noticed.

“I can’t say this is the first time I’ve been woken up by my younger brother doing gross stuff,” she continued, leveling both men with a glare. “But from now on? Get a hotel room. _Please_.”

Yuuri groaned and let his head sink onto his empty, jam-covered plate. Next to him, Makkachin began licking the jam from his hair.

“You were right,” he mumbled into the remains of his breakfast. “The drinking contest was definitely a bad idea.”

Victor leaned over to kiss the top of his head. “Well, we’ll just have to rent a room next time, won’t we? Actually, I’ve always wanted to try out a love hotel—”

“Yeah, I’m going to leave you two saps alone now,” Mari said, abruptly standing up. “You can wash my plate, just for that.”

“It was good to see you, Masha!” Victor called at her retreating back. She didn’t pause, but Yuuri saw her lazily wave an acknowledgment.

“You’re such a dork,” Yuuri said as he sat up and laced his fingers with his fiancé’s. “And now I have jam in my hair. I think you owe it to me to help me wash it out.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, definitely. I put on such a good show for you, right?”

“The best.” Victor bent to kiss Yuuri’s ring again, then his lips. “Thank you. I know it’s rough.”

“See, you agree I deserve to be pampered now,” Yuuri said, but then he returned the kiss once, twice, and then so many times that the jam in his hair was entirely forgotten as they fell in love all over again, the same as they did every day—but that’s a story for another time.

**Author's Note:**

> \+ Blame [Mio](www.archiveofourown.org/users/anicon/profile) for this, because I jokingly showed them [this post](http://tomakehimfree.tumblr.com/post/153601013101/i-keep-thinking-about-yuuri-just-casual-af) and then 30 seconds later my traitorous hands had opened a word doc and typed out the opening paragraph.  
> \+ Anteros is the Eros of requited love ( ´ ▽ ` )  
> \+ Victor is 100% a sub. I don't make the rules it's just canon sorry  
> \+ Солнышко is a pet name meaning "sunshine," except, like, mushier, good lord.  
> \+ золотце is another pet name literally translating to "my gold." A dumb reference to how Victor clearly adores Yuuri more than his own gold medals? WELL,  
> \+ Yura is a Russian diminutive of Yuri; Masha is one for Maria, which is close to Mari, idk.  
> \+ Random background headcanons: Victor lived alone for god knows how long so he can definitely cook; Yuuri never dated much but at one point he really got around; they have a blanket consent to intoxicated sex so long as they’re both fully conscious and not in obvious danger of alcohol poisoning; any kinky stuff is pre-negotiated.  
> \+ I don’t really remember how Yu-topia works or is laid out…What does the kitchen look like?? Where do they eat?? I can’t remember so sue me but it’s winter I guess so! Kotatsu now. Thanks. Also it's 3am and I'm too exhausted to use html to make real bullet points for these notes. Just enjoy your porn.  
> \+ “Where does this take place in canon” you ask, to which I laugh at you profusely. You will never take me alive.


End file.
